I
The drive from Tbilisi airport to the Tsinandali Estate should take about two hours, but it’s a much swifter journey in the very early morning. We zoom serenely along the quiet highways, slowing only to swerve stray dogs who have wandered onto the road. Each swerve is a sudden lurch that jolts me out of snatches of sleep, and each jolt reveals another increment in a long, slow sunrise. The Georgia from out the car window has plains that seem flatter than any flatlands I’ve ever seen, and huge mountains lurk menacingly as we skirt around their foothills. But all of it is shrouded in a murky light that’s slow to clear, even in intervals. By the time the day has revealed itself, the car has slowed to a crawl. We turn off the road, clunk over a speed bump, and enter another world entirely.